buried along with her name
by Lucky Dice Kirby
Summary: Madeline comes home to an empty apartment and an empty life. ‹paul•madeline›‹spoilers through 1.12, Omega›


When Madeline gets home, she finds her apartment covered in a thick layer of dust. It really has been a while, then. She supposes no one would have come to clean the apartment in her absence. She has no family, there was only Miranda, but she's gone now. As for friends--she cut her ties with them before she signed the contract.

Idly, she wonders if it's really a good thing that her contract is over. There had been nothing for her to live for back then, so why should it be any different now?

She thinks of going back to the Dollhouse and signing another contract, wonders if there's a way to get a contract for forever. Wonders if it's even worth all the trouble, if maybe she should just go find some high overpass and let herself fall.

Somebody knocks on the door, and Madeline answers it. It's a delivery boy, with a bouquet of a dozen roses, deep red ones (red like Miranda's blood spilled over the pavement, but don't think of that now, _dwelling on past events won't bring her back_, says her therapist in a dull voice). There's a card, but all it says is, "Don't go back," and nothing more. It isn't signed. The delivery boy grins widely and says _Someone must care about you a lot, huh,_ and Madeline give him a small smile, says _I suppose so,_ and shuts the door in his face as politely as she can.

She puts the flowers in a vase, and sets about cleaning the apartment.

xxx

The next day it's a box of chocolates, with the same note attached. Madeline has a few of them after her simple dinner, and thinks about Miranda's father. She wonders if he ever found out that his only daughter is dead, and wishes he had left some way for her to contact him. An e-mail address would have been fine, the e-mail address of a friend of a friend, even, just some way to get the news to him. Anything would be better than wondering when or if he'll ever find out, wondering whether that bastard would even_care_...

Without warning, she begins to cry, huge, wracking sobs accompanied by fat tears running down her face, and it's a long while before she stops.

It had never occurred to her that maybe that was all she needed. Before, before she had signed the contract to give up her life, she had never let herself cry. People commended her for being so brave, so strong in the face of adversity, and she had smiled as best she could and thanked them, no real warmth behind the words. Miranda had always hated it when she cried, and somehow, it seemed that maybe if she didn't cry, her daughter would come back. It was absurd, she had known that, but it had been hope, and she clung to it with all her strength.

It didn't seem to have worked, in the end, so there's really no harm in letting herself cry now.

xxx

A week later, she opens the door to find a necklace waiting for her. Simple, made of white gold, a heart shaped locket on the end. No note, this time, just the locket in a box. She opens it, curious, wondering if there's a photo inside, or if it's just empty. Miranda's bright face stares happily back at her, oblivious to the pain she's causing her mother.

Madeline closes her hand around the locket, not noticing that it is shaking slightly. She should be afraid, it ocurrs to her; somebody is apparently stalking her, and all she feels is surprise that anyone would bother. Absently, she puts the locket on, and fastens it around her neck. It is pretty, after all.

xxx

A few nights after that, it isn't a package waiting for her, but a person, though he's holding a bag of what looks like Chinese food.

"Hello," she says, wondering again if she should be worried that he's going pull a chainsaw from nowhere and murder her in some gruesome fashion.

"Hi," he says, holding out the bag to her. "I thought it'd be more polite to deliver this in person."

She takes it, peeking inside. "You know," she begins, "It looks like enough for two. Why don't you join me?"

"Alright," he says, stepping forward.

"But first," she says, blocking the door so that he can't get through, "I don't think I quite caught your name."

He smiles at her. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Paul," he tells her. "Paul Ballard."

"Nice to meet you agian, Paul," says Madeline. "I hope you got the spring rolls. This place has the best ones in the whole country!" she finished, gesturing to the logo on the bag.

"Now, what kind of investigator would I be if I didn't know that?"


End file.
